


Terror in Manhattan, October 1977

by BobbyCrocker101



Category: Kojak
Genre: 1970s, Assassination Attempt(s), Detectives, Gen, Manhattan South, Military Police Corps, NYPD, New York City, Special Forces, Vietnam War, Vietnam veterans, assassinations, hired assassins, homicides, murders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22634008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobbyCrocker101/pseuds/BobbyCrocker101
Summary: A man Bobby Crocker once served with in Vietnam is out to assassinate a Soviet trade delegate.This is an original story set in October 1977.Feedback welcome





	Terror in Manhattan, October 1977

**Author's Note:**

> None of the characters belong to me; I'm just playing with them for a while before putting them back in their box. No money is being, or will be made from this story.
> 
> In the Season 2 episode “Nursemaid” (1974) Crocker’s ID shows him to have been born in 1943 which would make him 34 in 1977, but because he's occasionally referred to as being very young and is often called "Kid" or "Junior", my version of him was born in 1951 which makes him 26 in this story, and since little is known about his back story I've made up my own version.
> 
> Original characters: Eric Kingsland, Officer Griffin, Officer Wilkins, Stanley Vincent, Tom Edwards, Feodor Gorkov, Major-General Richard ‘Red’ Storey, Karen Black, Miss Charles
> 
> Spoilers: None, but a familiarity with the show would be useful and it might help if you read my others stories, particularly 'New Beginnings.'
> 
> Enjoy!

Sunday morning

“What’s the matter with you Crocker? Fourteen hour days not enough for you? You got to start chasing the Coroner’s wagon at…” Lieutenant Theo Kojak looked at watch and groaned. “Six o’clock on a Sunday morning?” He’d been curled up next to a long-legged brunette when his lie in and any promises that went with it were disturbed by a call from Crocker to say that a body had been found lying in the sand off the East River. He’d arrived at the scene to find his detective had quietly taken charge of the situation and had already got the Coroner at the scene. Saperstein and Rizzo were off in the distance questioning potential witnesses.

“Sorry lieutenant,” Bobby replied yawning. He’d had a few ‘plans’ of his own that morning involving a cute red-head. “What’s with the siren?”

“If I have to be awake at this time of the day, so does the REST of Manhattan! Kojak snapped back. "So what have we got?”

“Well at first it looked like the usual; a guy who wanted to take a dip in the East River with his clothes on.” Bobby replied. Kojak looked behind him at the Williamsburg Bridge.

“So he jumped off the bridge!” He replied sarcastically.

“Not from where the tide was last night. The Harbour Master reckons he went in north of the bridge.” Bobby replied.

“How’s the body?” Kojak asked.

“He couldn’t have been in the water too long.” Bobby replied.

“ID?” Kojak asked.

“Nothing we could find, but when was the last time you saw a jumper taking the time to strip himself of identification. Not only that, Griffin and Sutton chased a guy last night after a report came in about a body being dumped, but no-one’s been able to find the witness who made the call, and that’s only the start of what’s interesting. The captain of the patrol boat,” Bobby pointed to the boat moored behind them, “he helped us break up that smuggling ring last year.”

“I remember him.” Kojak replied.

“Well he recognised our ‘stiff’ as the one who got away; Eric Kingsland. Interesting?” Bobby asked.

“I’m always interested when it comes to tying up loose ends.” Kojak replied, his temper subsiding. Leaving everything in the hands of the clean-up team the two men turned to walk back to their cars, passing the Coroner’s men as they loaded the body into the back of their wagon.

“The question is; why would someone kill Kingsland: if that’s what happened?” Bobby asked as they walked.

“And if that’s what happened: who killed him?” Kojak replied. 

Monday morning

“The Mets will be great in Seventy-Eight!” Bobby chanted as he arrived in the squad room. “And Joe Torry will tell the story!” He was in a good mood having made up for lost time with a certain red-head the evening before.

“Is that what you think?” Stavros replied laughing. Being from Queens, Bobby was the only member of the team that wasn’t a Yankees supporter, and was often teased about it. For his birthday last year the guys had hoped to convert him by buying him a Yankees’ sweatshirt. They’d failed.

“It’s what I know!” the young man replied. At that moment Kojak walked into the squad room and indicated that the team should join him in his office. 

“So have we got anything?” Kojak asked. Stavros produced a sheet of paper.

“Confirmation that our midnight swimmer was indeed one Eric Kingsland,” he replied with a big grin on his face as if he was a puppy expecting some kind of reward for not messing the carpets. 

“He had a record for three separate convictions for selling shipments of stolen guns, and served time on two of them.” Saperstein added.

“Did you talk to the ME?” Kojak asked Bobby.

“The autopsy report says he was dead before he hit the water; there’s no doubt about it. Moscowitz found no trace of water in his lungs and no evidence of drowning. Cause of death: a break in the cervical column. The bruises indicate that the neck was snapped by someone who knew their business,” Bobby replied. 

“Sounds like a chiropractor I used to go to is on the loose again,” Captain McNeil commented as he walked into the room.

“This Kingsland had a tool and die shop on Bond Street,” Rizzo added. “It’s also listed as his home address. Maybe he was back in the gun business.”

“So somebody broke his neck over a gun deal?” Bobby asked.

“Well everyone wants a gun these days,” Kojak replied, “crooks, straights, schoolkids; it’s big business.”

“Tell me about it,” Saperstein replied. “Our neighbour’s just bought herself a 'Saturday night special'; says curling up with it at night makes her feel safer.” At that moment the telephone rang. Kojak answered it, spoke a few words and then handed the receiver to McNeil.

“McNeil… yes sir…right away sir.”

“Sir?” Kojak asked.

“That was down town; the Chief’s on his way over and wants to see you, me and Crocker right away.” McNeil replied.

“Have you been using his parking space again Frank?” Kojak asked smirking. The captain looked shocked.

“It couldn’t be that Theo; he’d have me towed away – just like last time!” He replied grinning. Kojak handed Saperstein the file on Kingsland. 

“Here, you Stavros and Rizzo go to Kingsland Tool & Die. Sniff around and see what you can find out. I’ll fill you all in later

****

Forty five minutes later the Chief of Detectives along with two strangers in suits were gathered in McNeil’s office along with Kojak and Bobby. 

“This is Stanley Vincent from the CIA,” the Chief began pointing to one of the two men, “and this,” he pointed to the other man “is Tom Edwards from the State Department. I’m going to let these gentlemen fill you in.” 

“I take it you’re aware of the Government’s recent trade agreement with the Soviet Union?” Vincent began. 

“I think I read something about it in the paper. Isn’t there a Russian delegation coming to New York to attend the International Trade Fair later this week?” Kojak asked as he lit a cigarillo. 

“Yes, then they’re continuing on to Washington. The delegation is arriving at JFK late on Thursday morning, and we’ll be laying on heavy security.” Vincent replied.

“The chairman of the delegation is Feodor Gorkov and we’re expecting an attempt on his life.” Edwards began.

“An assassination?” Bobby asked.

“Not so much of the man, more for what he stands for; the beginnings of a trade liaison between the United States and the Soviet Union.” Edwards continued.

“How do you know there’s going to be an attempt?” Kojak asked.

“We CAN'T be certain of course,” Vincent replied, “but we’ve picked up bits and pieces from our intelligence network about a certain group of conspirators. Now, the attempt could take place here in New York during the trade visit or in Washington.” 

“Are there any suspects?” Kojak asked.

“We think we know the identity of the ‘trigger man’”. Vincent continued. He handed Kojak a couple of photographs showing two men standing side by side, they appeared to be deep in conversation. The man on the left was dark haired with a beard; the other man was older and had white hair. He looked at the photographs and then handed them to McNeil and Bobby. “The guy on the left is John Kelso, a former Army intelligence officer and trained executioner. He was taken out of active service five years ago for mental instability. Our information is that you served with him in Vietnam Detective Crocker.”

“One mission only,” Bobby replied quietly. Kojak looked across at his detective and could tell by his face that the young man was deeply troubled.

“Well there’s nothing unstable about him now,” Edwards continued. “He’s totally rational, he’s deadly, and he’s an expert marksman.”

“Who’s the man on the left?” Kojak asked.

“Major-General Richard Storey United States Army retired. “Edwards replied. “We took the photographs at the Yonkers Raceway. Unfortunately we lost Kelso in the crowd. The word is he used to live in the city and his ex-wife still lives here and is a school teacher. She’s out of town at the moment, but he still might try to contact her. We’ve got her place under surveillance just in case.”

“We’ve got less than seventy-two hours before the Russian delegation lands,” the Chief began, “and you and your men know better than we do where a man might lose himself in this city.” 

The meeting came to a close and Kojak took the photographs and ordered copies to be made and distributed around the various Manhattan precincts, diners, hotels and rooming houses... He also had copies faxed to Immigration, particularly to the border controls between the United States and Canada. It was only a hunch, but since New York was closer to Canada than Mexico Kojak figured Kelso might have entered the country from the north rather than the south. 

Tuesday morning

“Thanks Bernie! Hey just don’t forget your friends OK?” Bobby put down the phone and walked into Kojak’s office. 

“I’m shooting blanks lieutenant,” he began.

“I hope you never have to tell the future mother of your children that Crocker.” Kojak teased while chewing on a slice of pizza.

“What call her ‘lieutenant’?” Bobby replied smiling. Kojak looked at his detective. The young man rarely smiled, but when he did it seemed to light up the room. Bobby cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ve talked to every snitch, every contact I know who might have a line on a new face in town, but there isn’t a rumble.”

“It’s like trying to trace a ghost,” Kojak commented, wiping his face with a napkin.

“I’ve checked, and Kelso’s life seems to have ended four and a half years ago: Europe to Canada; and there’s no record of him having ever come back to the United States.” Bobby added. Kojak’s hunch about Canada was looking more promising.

“And yet he just happened to catch the main feature at the Yonkers Raceway.” Kojak commented.

“He must have phoney papers, and is probably using an alias and maybe wearing a different look.” Bobby added.

“But you clearly recognised him from the photograph as the guy you served with.” Kojak replied.

“That’s a face I’ll never forget.” Bobby continued.

“It doesn’t sound like he brings back fond memories.” Kojak pressed.

“Not much about Vietnam does, and Kelso in particular.” Bobby replied. “We were sent up country on a short reconnaissance mission sanctioned by the CIA. Kelso was out of control and a lot of people were killed that shouldn’t have been killed...” At that moment Stavros walked into the room looking very pleased with himself.

“We’ve just received confirmation from Canada on the passport.” he began. “They’ve got a guy up there, used to do big business forging papers for draft dodgers. Well, he just got picked up in Toronto on a drugs bust. They questioned him and he’s admitted to forging a passport, papers, and a New York driver’s licence in the name of James Morgan. Now get this,” Stavros held up the photo of James Morgan supplied by Canada, “John Kelso.”

“Are they certain about the ‘make’ on Kelso?” Kojak asked.

“He was using another alias, but their people had a copy of the photo we sent. And we now know that he flew into Chicago six days ago and I’m checking with the airline to see if there’s a trail.” 

Tuesday afternoon

“Crocker!” Kojak yelled from his office. The young man stopped what he was doing and reported to his leader. “The stake out on Mrs Kelso has paid off; she’s back in town. Come on.” The two men grabbed their coats and headed up town. 

Pulling in at the kerb Kojak walked across to the surveillance vehicle where the officers inside confirmed that Mrs Kelso was still in her apartment. Together he and Bobby climbed the steps and entered the building heading up to the third floor. Arriving outside the apartment they rang the doorbell and waited.

“Can I help you?” the small brunette asked. The two men showed her their badges.

“Mrs Kelso? I’m Lieutenant Kojak, Manhattan South detectives, and this is Detective Crocker. We’d like to ask you some questions.” She opened the door wider to admit them into the small apartment and invited them to sit in the living room.

“You said you have some questions?” she asked. “About what?”

“About your husband.” Kojak replied.

“Ex-husband,” she quickly corrected.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Bobby asked.

“Four… nearly five years ago.” She replied.

“Was that here in New York?” Bobby asked.

“Yes, but as far as I know he’s been abroad since then.” She replied.

“Have you had any contact with him recently; letters, postcards?” Kojak asked.

“What’s this all about?” She asked, getting agitated.

“We believe he’s somewhere in the city, and we’d like to talk to him.” Kojak replied.

“Why are you looking for him?” She asked sharply.

“We can’t tell you that Mrs Kelso. But it’s urgent.” Kojak replied.

“Look, from the day he was phased out from what THEY called mental instability, our lives existed in a nightmare.” She replied. “Years of living hell, where he changed from an idealist who loved the flag and his country to a deranged mental case who could take a human life without blinking an eye.”

“Vietnam changed a lot of people.” Bobby replied gently.

“It wasn’t just Vietnam!” She replied angrily. "It was the dirty jobs he had to do before and after; too many dirty jobs, until his mind snapped!" Kojak and Bobby got up to leave. Kojak took a card out of his jacket.

“Here’s my number. I want you to call me if he gets in touch.” He said kindly.

“The divorce was a bitter one, lieutenant,” Mrs Kelso began. “there’s no reason for him to contact me.”

“Well thank you for your cooperation.” Kojak replied. The two men left and headed back to the precinct.

****

“Lieutenant!” Rizzo called out as Kojak and Bobby walked back into the squad room. “We’ve been going through the ledgers we got from Kingsland’s tool and die business. He was into gun dealing alright; stolen guns, custom crafted items. He had his own ‘tailor shop’. The private projects he worked on at night, well they were guns made to order for the less discriminate buyer.”

“What about names?” Kojak asked, “Who did he work with?”

“The ledgers are full of possibles,” Stavros replied. “We’re running them down now, but there were a couple of names that stood out. One was a James Morgan. I figure it’s got to be the Kelso-Morgan connection we’ve been looking for. It looks like the order was for a custom item to be delivered on the 6th.”

“That was the day Kingsland was killed,” Kojak replied.

“It’s the last entry in the ledger.” Saperstein continued.

“Could be Kelso bought himself a new piece from Kingsland right before Kingsland went to the big gun shop in the sky.” Bobby replied from across the room. He was desperate for a cup of coffee.

“The other name we spotted was our ‘friend’ Major-General Storey.” Stavros continued.

“Did he buy a piece?” Kojak asked.

“No sir.” Stavros replied. “We got his name from a cross-check of the names on the ledgers from Kingsland’s old tool receipts: Major-General Richard ‘Red’ Storey, United States Army, retired. It looks like he’s got a place up in Riverdale.”

“Crocker, grab your coat!” Kojak called out. The young man put down the mug he’d just filled with coffee and grabbed his coat back of the coatrack.

Tuesday evening

Forty-five minutes later the two men found themselves standing in a room filled with glass cabinets containing the most amazing collection of guns they’d ever seen. The gentle sound of piano music could be heard coming from another part of the house. Storey’s ‘man’ had asked them to wait while he fetched the general from his dinner party. A few minutes later the door opened and a white-haired man entered. He looked every inch the military man; tall, straight standing, proud. He saw the two men looking at his collection.

“I’ve got the real beauties locked up downstairs in the ‘playroom’,” he began; “everything from ‘Wild Bill’ Hickok’s Colt Peacemaker to a Russian automatic rifle that I ‘liberated’ from a North Korean general.”

“Is that how you got the nickname ‘Red’? Bobby asked.

“I see you’ve been reading my press clippings,” the general replied. “I did an ‘Audie Murphy’ against the Commies on a little hill in Korea; picked up a chest full of ribbons for it.”

“Was it worth it general?” Kojak asked. “Taking the hill: I understand you suffered some of the heaviest casualties of the war.” 

“It’s worth it anytime you stop the enemy,” he replied sternly. “Hill, village, border: if you don’t stop the enemy in one place, you’re going to have to stop him in another. But you didn’t come here to listen to me spouting military philosophy.”

“On the contrary,” Kojak replied, “your military philosophy is very enlightening. I’m Lieutenant Kojak, from the Manhattan South Detectives Division, and this is Detective Crocker.” The two men presented their badges.

“My ‘man’ has told me your IDs are authentic.” The general replied. “And I believe he also told you I’m entertaining guests.”

“Then I’ll make it short and sweet.” Kojak replied. “Does the name John Kelso mean anything to you?”

“Kelso… no.” the general replied. “Should it?”

“We have photographs of you with John Kelso taken recently at the Yonkers Raceway,” Kojak continued.

“Well, I don’t what kind of crime that would be if I was there, but I was nowhere near the Yonkers Raceway, and I don’t know a John Kelso,” The general replied.

“You’re sure about that?” Bobby asked.

“I was attending a board meeting. I’ll be happy to provide verification if necessary,” The general replied.

“What about James Morgan? Is that name familiar?” Kojak asked.

“I knew a Kelly Morgan,” the general replied, a secret smile on his face, “she was a stripper; used to perform in our service clubs, but no James Morgan that I recall.”

“It’s the alias John Kelso uses,” Bobby added.

“Is that so,” The general replied. “Well who IS John Kelso?”

“He’s a professional assassin,” Kojak replied.

“Really,” the general replied. “Well I wish I could contribute something that would help…”

“Did you ever purchase any guns from an Eric Kingsland?” Bobby asked. 

“It’s obvious that I own a lot of guns,” the general replied sounding annoyed, “collected over a life-time. But the name Eric Kingsland, what can I tell you? My memory is as good as the next man’s, but I’m not a computer.”

“Well our computer has a long file on you, and on Eric Kingsland.” Kojak replied, “Berlin, just after the Second World War, the two of you had graduated from college. You served in the OSS together.”

“I’ve served with a lot of people, in a lot of places, and in a lot of wars, and lieutenant you’re coming very close to ruining my dinner party if this is going to take much longer.” The general replied.

“Eric Kingland’s body is lying in the morgue right now.” Bobby began. “That’s killing number one, and we’ve reason to believe John Kelso is planning another one.”

“I know your record and your politics general,” Kojak began, “and I don’t want to see you make the mistake of starting any wargames in MY city.”

“Is that ALL lieutenant?” the general asked exasperated.

“Not quite,” Kojak continued. “If you can find John Kelso, stop him. Because if you don’t I’ll nail him, and you, and anyone else in your political team. Now THAT'S it!” He started towards the door.

“My ‘man’ will show you out,” the general spoke as they walked back through the entrance hall. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help.” He headed back to his dinner party while his 'man' escorted the two detectives back to the front door.

“Those pictures of him with Kelso aren’t a lie, so what he’s just fed us has to be.” Bobby began.

“He’s in it alright,” Kojak replied. “Right up to his Purple Heart and his Silver Star.” The officer opened the door and the two men stepped out into the evening.

Wednesday morning

Kojak and Bobby were driving through town following up on leads and speaking to their informants. Kojak noticed Bobby was staring out of the window looking thoughtful.

“What you were saying about Kelso, that he got a lot of people killed,” Kojak began, “what was that all about?” Crocker rarely discussed his military service in Vietnam. He knew the young man had been decorated; he’d even seen the citation hanging on his foster mother’s living room wall, but he’d never had the chance to read it, and he’d never had the opportunity to ask him about it - until now. 

“He was a Scout,” Bobby replied, “one of the best. So when the CIA wanted some information about a particular troop movement a group of us were sent in with Kelso to check it out.”

“Enemy territory?” Kojak asked.

“Seemed like it was all enemy territory.” Bobby replied. “Well, when the ‘thing’ went down I found myself separated from my unit and alone in a village about thirty miles north of Saigon. There were four of ‘ours’: wounded Americans waiting for a ride out. The next thing I knew the 'choppers' that we thought were coming in to evacuate the wounded were shooting up the jungle.”

“An air strike?” Kojak asked.

“Called in by Kelso,” Bobby replied, “he said he’d seen the Viet Cong moving in. It was never proved but we heard rumours afterwards that the real reason was that he and the village chief had a drug deal going that fell apart and he was breaking up the partnership.”

“A lot of casualties...” Kojak commented. Bobby held up three fingers.

“Three villagers left alive and one other American beside myself, and HE was one of the wounded. The rest of the village was blown away. There was no sign of Kelso so it was left to me to get everyone back to our home base. It took us nearly a week, but we all made it back in one piece.”

“Is why you were decorated?” Kojak asked. Bobby didn’t say anything, he just nodded. A lot of responsibility for one so young he thought as he remembered that his detective had only been twenty years old when he returned home and joined the NYPD. At that moment the car radio came to life

“Central to 723 K.” the dispatcher began, “You have a message from a Mrs Kelso – urgent K.”

“This is 723, let’s have it K.” Bobby replied.

****

The car pulled into a parking space outside the Center for Children on East 17th Street. The two men got out and made their way to the fifth floor where an agitated Mrs Kelso met them by the elevator. She had a plastic carrier bag in her hands, which she handed to Kojak. It contained a toy aeroplane.

“He didn’t say anything about where he was going or staying; he just left that.” She pointed to the bag. “He must have brought it to give to our son Keith, but he never even took it out of the bag. You see, our little boy suffered brain damage at birth and John could never accept it. He still can’t.”

“You said something about a prescription?” Kojak asked. Mrs Kelso reached into her jacket pocket and brought out a piece of paper.

“This prescription slip was in the bag. John has an allergy. I thought perhaps if he’d left the prescription at the pharmacy he might not have picked it up yet.” Kojak handed the paper to Bobby.

“Get hold of Rizzo; tell him to check this out and then have him meet us at Wright’s Pharmacy.” Bobby took the slip of paper and headed over to the nurses’ station to use the phone. Kojak took Mrs Kelso’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He said. “Your little boy, is he going to be alright?” Mrs Kelso nodded. She looked at the carrier bag.

“Do you think it would be alright if I kept the aeroplane?” she asked. Kojak handed the bag back to her and went to join Bobby over at the nurses’ station.

****

“We’re too late lieutenant,” Rizzo began, meeting Kojak and Bobby when they arrived outside the pharmacy. “Kelso’s already been here. Picked up his prescription and left. The druggist said he had a cab waiting.”

“Did you get the name of the cab company?” Kojak asked.

“Conway Cabs,” Rizzo replied.

“Talk to the dispatcher. See if you can get a trace on where the cab was heading.” Kojak ordered. The two men left Rizzo at the pharmacy and headed back to the precinct.

Wednesday afternoon

Bobby, Rizzo and Saperstein were standing outside a seedy hotel on Fulton Street. The dispatcher at Conway Cabs had telephoned the precinct to report that a man matching John Kelso’s description had been dropped off there. Kojak was in a meeting with the captain and had sent his three detectives to search Kelso's room, but there was had been no sign of the man himself. Bobby was busy briefing the others on their next move, but Saperstein’s attention had been drawn to a man and woman leaving the bar opposite arm in arm. He watched as they climbed into a black Mercedes and reversed out into the street. Suddenly the driver spotted Saperstein looking at him and putting his foot down deliberately aimed the car at him. The detective jumped out of the way as the car sped off, clipping a green and white delivery van as it passed.

“Hey! That was Kelso!” Saperstein called out.

“Did you get the licence number?” Bobby asked.

“Only a partial, 4---LA Saperstein replied.

“Call the lieutenant and put out an APB and get the partial on the computer.” Bobby ordered.

“Sorry Bobby, I should have said something before I approached the car,” Saperstein began, “but I wanted to get a better look.”

“Well now he knows we’re onto him,” Bobby replied, “which means one of two things; either he drops the contract or he gets twice as hard to catch.”

Wednesday afternoon

Stanley Vincent from the CIA and Tom Edwards from the State Department were in the precinct squad room filling the team in on the final preparations for the following day’s trade visit. 

“The motorcade will pick the Russian group up at the airport,” Vincent began, “and will enter Manhattan via the Midtown Tunnel and will then continue along FDR Drive to the Trade Center.

“The route’s been given a tight security check and will be double-checked and will also be heavily patrolled during the motorcade,” Edwards continued.”

“What about helicopters?” Vincent asked.

“Weather willing we’ll have three up,” McNeil replied. “I’ve asked the Chief to clear some men for aerial duty.” At that moment Bobby walked into the room.

“Still nothing on the car,” he reported.

“We’re going to stay with this,” Kojak continued. “All street personnel with radios will be in open communication with the rooftop observation posts. Rizzo, Crocker and I will be ‘roaming’.” 

Thursday morning 

The weather was dull and grey and there was a threat of rain for later. 

“The patrol guys were making their usual rounds when they spotted this little number, 429-BLA. Even has green paint on the fender from where it hit the delivery van,” Bobby began. Earlier on he had received a call to say a black Mercedes matching the one being driven by John Kelso had been found parked outside an apartment block on Murray Street. He’d notified the lieutenant who had arrived with Stavros. “The building manager says the car belongs to a tenant called Karen Black; apartment 2-12.” Quickly and quietly they entered the building and made their way to the second floor. Guns drawn they arrived outside the apartment. Finding the door locked Kojak gave Bobby the order to kick it open.

The three men entered the living room and as Bobby headed toward the bedroom he spotted the body of Karen Black on the floor.

“Looks like she picked the wrong guy to get friendly with,” Kojak commented as he knelt down next to the woman’s body and retrieved a small piece of paper from her hand. 

“Call the Coroner and the Crime Lab,” he ordered. Stavros made the call and continued to search the apartment. Bobby came out of the bathroom holding a number of items. He held up a bottle and a small brush.

“Bleach,” He began, “and freshly used, and not by the lady if you look at her roots.” Kojak looked.

“Looks like our man has got himself a new hairdo,” he commented.

“And we’re also not looking for a beard anymore,” Bobby continued. “He used her razor.” Kojak went over to the window and looked at the piece of paper he’d taken from the girl’s hand.

“This is a receipt for a safety deposit box,” he began, “for a bank with an address that’s on the motorcade route, in the name of James Morgan.”

****

After dropping Stavros off Kojak and Bobby continued on down town. Parking outside the bank Kojak noticed several patrol officers and squad cars nearby: no doubt part of the heightened security being laid on for the trade visit; as far as he was concerned the sooner this circus was over, the better. The two men got out of the car and went to speak to a couple of patrol officers. Bobby absently moved out of the way of a nun who was coming out of the bank, but didn’t think anything more of it. They entered the building and walked over to the manager’s desk.

“I’m Lieutenant Kojak, and this is Detective Crocker,” he began as the two men showed their badges. 

“Yes sir. What can I do for you?” the manager asked.

“I’d like to ask you about a customer,” Kojak continued. He showed the man the receipt for the safety deposit box. He led the two detectives to an area at the back of the bank where the safety deposit boxes were kept. Two cashiers were busy filing papers. The manager called one of the girls over.

“This is Miss Charles lieutenant; she should be able to assist you with your enquiry.” Kojak showed her the receipt, while she checked the register.

“Well he checked in, but he didn’t check out.” She commented.

“Was the safety deposit box returned?” Kojak asked.

“No,” the cashier replied, “that would have happened when he checked out.” 

“Can you give us a description of the man?” Kojak asked.

“Yes, he had close-cut blond hair and dark-rimmed glasses,” she replied. “He walked with a limp and he used a cane.” The other cashier, a small dark haired girl came forward.

“That’s not James Morgan!” she began. “The James Morgan who registered for that box had dark hair and a beard, no glasses, and no limp.” She pulled the original application form from a folder.

“But it’s the same signature.” Miss Charles commented.

“Which compartment did he use?” Bobby asked.

“This one right here,” Miss Charles replied pointing to a nearby door. The two men entered the compartment. On the table was a large brown paper bag bearing the logo of a nearby fancy-dress costume store, there was also a large metal container. Kojak looked inside and pulled out a man’s jacket. Realisation suddenly dawned.

“Wait a minute,” Bobby began, as the two men re-joined the cashiers, “Did either of you see a nun in here in the last few minutes?”

“Not while I was out front,” Miss Charles replied

“Yes!” the small dark haired girl added. “It struck me as odd because they’re not supposed to have any personal property are they? I mean not like this.” Kojak looked at his detective.

“I saw one leaving the bank while we were outside,” Bobby replied. The two men ran for the exit. 

****

Standing out on the street they looked up and down trying to spot anyone dressed as a nun, then as if of the same mind both men looked straight in front and then up at the church tower opposite.

“Crocker!” Kojak pointed upwards. The two men raced across the road and up the church steps. Pushing open the heavy wooden doors they entered the church and spotted the nun’s costume on the floor. They found the door that provided access to the tower steps and guns drawn climbed as quickly and as quietly as they could. Reaching the top of the steps Bobby noticed a small box on the wall. It contained the mechanism that controlled the clock chimes; he looked at his watch and altered the timer to make the clock strike; anything to distract Kelso, even for a second.

“Good thinking!” Kojak whispered as he passed the young man and headed toward the bell chamber. 

In the small space Kelso was standing by an open window. He had a high-powered rifle balanced on the window ledge and was preparing to fire. At that moment the clock chimed and Kelso jumped in surprise.

“Kelso!” Kojak called out. The other man turned and pulled a .38 from his trouser pocket and fired it at the lieutenant, who ducked out of the way just in time. Bobby ran past him and chased Kelso through the bell chamber and out onto the roof. For a while it seemed that Kelso had vanished, then looking up Bobby saw him balancing on the parapet as he made his way along the length of the building.

“Stop! Police!” he yelled, but Kelso took no notice and continued to walk away. Bobby stopped, aimed his gun and fired. Kelso fell from the parapet onto the flat roof, but not before his gun fired. There was a small explosion somewhere below on the street; Bobby hoped no one had been injured. He walked over to where Kelso lay, kicked the rifle away and crouched down. Kojak came up behind him.

“He wouldn’t stop; he’s dead.” Bobby began as he stood up.

“You didn’t kill him Bobby; he died a long time ago.” Kojak replied patting the younger man on the shoulder.

Thursday afternoon

The brown Buick pulled up outside the precinct. Kojak got out of the driver’s door while Bobby got out of the back along with Major General Richard Story who was now in handcuffs.

“I guess you know that booking me is going to be an exercise in futility,” the general began, “my attorney will have me out in time for dinner.” Kojak looked back at the man.

“Well let’s just say I need the practice,” he replied grinning, “and when I get through with you the Feds will be all over you like a bad suit.”

“Well I hope you have something more to build your case on than a few eight by ten 'glossies'.” The general replied.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kojak replied. “We’ll think of something to make it work.”

“Conspiracy to commit murder?” the general suggested.

“For openers,” Kojak replied. “And you won’t be lonely. We’re rounding up all of your friends to be booked right along with you!”

“This won’t change a thing you know,” the general continued. “Military action, assassination; they’re both the same.”

“Is that right?” Bobby commented from behind. The general turned round and looked at the young man.

“You have to stop the enemy one place or another…” he began.

“…Hill, village, border,” Bobby finished for him.

“Exactly!” The general replied. Kojak reached out and grabbed the general’s shoulder pulling him back round so that they stood face to face.

“Well you might be right in this case,” he began. “We DID stop YOU didn’t we.” The two detectives escorted the general up the precinct steps and through the door to the booking in desk.


End file.
